Secrets Secrets Are No Fun
by sleepuntiltomorrow
Summary: Secrets, secrets are no fun, unless you are a part of one! Kim has a secret, and so does Jack. So what happens when they find out about them? Read to find out...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey, you guys! This is a story having to deal with secrets, if you couldn't guess ;D I would like to dedicate this to bballgirl22 because she helped me SO MUCH with this story. Seriously, this would probably still be sitting in the depths of my computer if it wasn't for her! **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Kickin' It, sadly.**

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><p><em>...it's no pose<em>

_cause when she dances she goes and goes..._

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><p>The lights dimmed and five slightly fast-paced notes rang out from the speakers. A voice, clear and high sang the first line, and I began.<p>

I feel light and clear, dancing to the beat of the song, light on my toes, my fingertips nearly touching the stars, graceful, powerful... The moves are slow and deliberate until a powerful pulse breaks in the music and I feel it in my veins, the rhythm adding another layer to the music. The moves become more than just limbs twining around my body, the tendrils of the song grabbing hold of me, the lyrics helping my movements tell a story.

As the song progresses the undertones push forward, a story of betrayal and hurt unfolding, my moves becoming more erratic, the dance building and building, and the bridge comes and I am drawn to the pain.

The vocals stop, piano is all that is left and I can feel the ache of the song, slow, deliberate movements again. The voice nudges back in, high and soft. I'm twirling, this piece of the song full of high legs and limber gestures, but the pain is gone. It is replaced by a firm acceptance, the past can not be undone, and the beat is back. The pulse that drives me forward, my movements more fast-paced and I pull myself into a pirouette, the spins becoming faster and then I spin into a fall, landing soft on the ground and looking out to the audience as the last chord of the song rings out...

Then there's applause.

Wait, _what?_ Nonononononono, _no one should be here!_ Why would anyone be at the school's auditorium at 6 in the morning? Half the teachers aren't even here! Okay I take that back, only THREE of the teachers are here! And only one of them knows I'm here!

"So you really can dance?" Ah, shit. It's Jack. Well, there goes my secret, he wouldn't be able to keep it if he tried.

I roll my eyes, squinting out past the spotlights, "Yes, I can. And I'd appreciate it if you'd get your butt on stage, so I can see your face." Disembodied voices give me the creeps.

Suddenly there's a thud and Jack has appeared on stage, as if by magic.

"So why did you say you couldn't dance when you obviously _can_. And very well, I might add. I never would have pegged you for a ballerina."

"Woah there, buster," I put a hand on my hip, "I am no ballerina," I point out to the stage where I had just danced, "_That_ was not ballet! I am a lyrical dancer, thank you very much."

I give him a begrudging smile, "And thanks, but I don't really like people knowing I can dance. I've been dancing forever, and I know that if word got out, Miss Sanchez will be _all_ over me, calling my parents and forcing me to join dance team. It wouldn't be pretty. And besides, the type of dancing Jerry does is completely different from what I do."

"Okay, okay, I see your point. Miss Sanchez can be... Enthusiastic." He couldn't keep a straight face and we burst out laughing, the idea of the Miss Sanchez being only enthusiastic was hysterical. The 40-something woman was an honest-to-god professional dancer for years, until she broke her foot and had to quit. Now she was living her glory days, in short skirts and midriff-bearing shirts. She had some questionable taste and it definitely showed through.

Our laughter has died off, and now I look at Jack under the spotlight, his eyes sparkling with mirth. My breath catches, and I'm all the sudden brought back down to earth, hard, and my crush on him has never seemed so strong. Butterflies erupt in my stomach, and I'm all the sudden oh-so-nervous he'll discover my much more carefully guarded secret.

"So, Jack. Do you promise, and I mean _promise _you won't tell anyone? I can't risk anyone else knowing." The nervousness shows through in my voice, but he thinks it's all about the dancing. Better keep it that way.

"Of course!" Jack says, offended I'd think otherwise. "I'd never spill your secret, it's not mine to tell."

I let out an immense sigh of relief and tuck my hair behind my ear, looking up through my lashes at that brunette boy. But then I remember...

"Wait, why are _you_ here? Don't tell me you're secretly a dancer too." I smile, joking.

Jack laughs, "Unfortunately, I actually can't dance to save my life. I.. um," suddenly Jack seems nervous, his eyes shifting, avoiding mine, "Uh... my mom. She, uh. She had a... meeting. Yeah, she had a meeting early this morning and had to... Uh. Drop me off early. Yeah."

"Okay that was really pathetic. C'mon, Jack! Fess up! You know my secret, now spill!" I say, smiling and shaking his arm.

"Ugh, you're right... And you can stop that!" I laugh and he smiles while grabbing my hand to stop my incessant shaking of his arm. I was momentarily distracted by his hand on mine but I looked at him and he had this look on his face... Like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Well. You know how the drama department is competing this year with a one-act play?" Jack said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, has something to do with water? Something sad though. Mr. B was talking about it a couple months ago, asking me to try out." I smiled, the idea of me acting was outrageous, I may be hiding my dancing skills but I am a _horrible_ actress!

"Yeah, well... I kinda... I'm kinda the main character.

My jaw hits the floor. No way Jack was in the school's play! Though that would explain why he freaked out at Jerry for going through his backpack to find a pencil.

"No. Way." I echo my thoughts, "There's no way you're in a play! You can't act!"

"Wanna bet?" He looks at me, eyebrows raised in a challenge.

I stare him down, but I don't have any money to lose, and it'd be funny going to see Jack try and act in a play, "Fine. Prove it."

He smiles, knowing he's won. "Alright. This Friday night, five o'clock, we're doing a run through before competition Saturday, show up and you can see that I am an awesome actor."

"Done." I say, crossing my arms

"Good." Jack mimics me, crossing his arms.

"I'll be there." I say, turning around, "But I still need to practice, so, do you mind?" But I don't wait for an answer, I push play and begin the dance. But when I turn around, Jack's already hopped off the stage, presumably making his way to the Black Box to practice.

Within the first thirty seconds of the song, I've forgotten Jack and I'm back in the world of the dance, making sure to fix a pirouette that wasn't fast enough, a leap that wasn't high enough, you know what I mean.

When I finished my third run through after Jack left, after I was satisfied I had improved enough, I allowed myself a break for water and laughed at the idea of Jack acting. It's funny though, at first he didn't want me to know he was in the play, but as soon as I threatened his abilities he was more than eager to show off his "acting prowess". I'm still skeptical on that.

I allow myself one last run through before heading to the girl's bathroom to change for class, stuffing my leotard, skirt and Dance Paws to the bottom of my backpack, pulling my hair into a high ponytail and shuffling off to class. Hiding my secret was tough, and sometimes I want to just scream at everyone that I CAN dance, I'm not some loser who has no rhythm! I felt like that this morning, but as I walked past Ms. Sanchez who today was wearing knee-high red boots, a white mini skirt and a rather low-cut orange top, I felt like burning my leotard to get rid of the evidence. When Ms. Sanchez is around, I will bury my secret so deep it ends up in China. Some times, some things are better left unsaid.

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><p><strong>Dance Paws are a type of dance shoe (but not even really a shoe) that lyrical dancers use to be able to spin on the balls of their feet and not rip up their skin. I do not own the Dance Paws company.<strong>

**I also do not own White Houses.**

**Anyways, this story is going to be finished some time soon, I'm finishing it up at the moment, but band starts up tomorrow and I am going to be _swamped_ for a while, so expect chapter two some time this week, and chapter three next weekend!**

**The dance Kim did is a sort of hybrid dance I came up with in my mind while listening to White Houses by Vanessa Carlton (who is my favorite artist, EVER, btw) and the best visual representation I can come up with is if you go to YouTube and watch the music video for White Houses (DO THAT FIRST) and then watch this dance:**

**www[dot]youtube[dot]com/watch[question mark]v=hQqiPPKORw4&feature=related**

**The dance she does is somewhat of a combination of those (though obviously not a duet, like the second video...)**

**The only thing about this song, however, is that it does deal with a rather dark topic, so the bridge and other parts are cut out of the second dance. I still think the song is amazing and pictured Kim doing her dance to the full version of this song.**

**Anyways, sorry for the SUPER LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE, kudos if you read it all AND watched the two videos, I shall love you for all of time 3**

**(thanks again to bballgirl22!)**

**Please review! **

**x Em**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey guys! So here's chapter two! I know I promised it last week, but band is just eating away at my time! I just finished this, and I hope you like it!**

**Also, I've seen Jack's last name in so many other fics be Anderson, and it sounds right. I'm also really bad at coming up with good last names for people, so I'm going to use that from now on. Thanks to the author who first thought of it!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Kickin' It, or The Diviners.**

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><p>Seeing as today is Tuesday, I have about three days (if you count today) until I can see Jack in this one-act play of his, "The Diviners". When I asked about it during Biology, he said he only agreed to do it because he had accidentally destroyed Mr. B's precious garden gnome collection while skateboarding, and if he tried out for the play Mr. B wouldn't tell his mom, who would have grounded him into the next century. So, Jack tried out for the play, Mr. B said he was "a natural talent" and gave him the part of the main character, Buddy. I couldn't get any more out of him about the play. Jack just refused to tell me, stating that if he told me, it wouldn't do his acting justice.<p>

Yeah, sure.

Later that day, in English, we were paired up together for a creative writing project where we traded stories and critiqued them, as to "help the editing process". I'm scanning Jack's story of a kid who could see into the future when he looks up at me and says in that oh-so-cocky voice of his, "Don't cry too much when you see me perform, it's something spectacular, I'm told."

I roll my eyes (I mean, what else can you do when someone's so irritating but still so cute?) and continue editing the short story.

He continues like this for the rest of the week, baiting me, boasting about his so-called 'acting skills', and being obnoxious in general while still making me melt inside every time he grins at me.

On Friday, however, I walk into the first class we have together, Biology, and see that instead of the cocky attitude he had been wearing all week, he was sitting in his desk, focused on a point in front of him, his lips moving but no sound leaving them.

I slide into the desk in front of Jack and wave my hand in front of his face, "Helloo? Earth to Jack?" I say, slightly concerned.

"What?" Jack startles from his reverie, "Oh, Kim. It's you. Sorry, just going over my lines," his lips then shifting into an easy smile.

"Ha. Ha. Nice try, buddy, but I can tell." I say, matter-of-fact tone taking over, "_You're nervous,_" I whisper, leaning over his desk.

He leans in (oh dear god his eyes, and his cologne and _ughhhh_ Kim don't give in!) and whispers right back in the most sarcastic tone, "No I'm not, Kimberly Anne."

"Don't pull that middle name stuff on me! You're nervous, admit it! It's fine!" I say, smiling at Jack, "Nervousness is an _emotion_, Jack. Emotions are normal for us humans."

"I'm Jack Anderson, I don't _get_ nervous."

I do a quick flick of my eyes up and down him and with a sarcastic "Mm-hmm." turn around in my seat, waiting on Mrs. Garcia to finish taking roll.

"I'm not nervous, Kim." Jack leaned across his desk to whisper this in my ear, his hot breath on my ear and close proximity giving me goosebumps,

With one more sarcastic "Mm-hmm." I stare deliberately at the front of the classroom, taking notes on genotypes and phenotypes, and how to keep genetic equillibrium, ignoring the nervous boy behind me (probably still mouthing his lines) for the rest of the class period.

English, the only other class I had with Jack, was right after lunch, and usually we walk to class together, chatting like people do (except for the other days this week, where he boasted non-stop), but today he kept up his strangely quiet demeanor, his lips moving every so often. Also, due to reviewing his lines, he was so unfocused I had to guide him away from walking into walls. Making it to English in one piece is a miracle.

Our teacher, Mrs. Forester, takes the first five minutes of every class (usually, some times she takes longer... like thirty minutes...) to discuss the objectives of today's class period. I watch her get up to the front of the class, and start to explain, "Okay, guys! Today I will hand back the short stories you wrote, and you'll be going in for your second round of editing!" Mrs. Forester then clasps her hands together and smiles like this is the most interesting thing in the world.

"Now, remember class, editing isn't _just_ about grammar. Check for literary devices, like anaphora and..." at this point I'm having trouble paying attention to my teacher when Jack's slight whispering is all I can focus on.

I can't really make out words, just slight hisses where an 's' should be, every once and a while a vowel will slip through, and it's quite mesmerizing... I'm starting to feel like I'm hypnotized and all of the sudden I jolt out of my reverie when the desk in front of me is scraped away to join another.

Realizing that Jack and I need to at least _look _like we're working, I turn my desk around to face his, "So, are you going to keep muttering to yourself or are you going to actually work on our project?" I ask, and Jack looks perplexed as Mrs. Forester hands us each our stories.

"What are we supposed to be doing?" he whispers across the desk.

"Editing, again." I whisper back.

Jack raises his voice back to its normal volume, "But didn't we already do that? Like, Monday?"

I roll my eyes and smile, "It was Tuesday, and we're supposed to look at them with fresh eyes today, see if there was anything we've missed. That's why Mrs. Forester took them up, so we wouldn't mull over them."

"Oh! So you can look at them after not thinking about them for so long!" Jack says as it dawns on him.

"That's what I just said, genius."

"Well!" Jack's hand flies up to his heart and he pretends to be taken aback by my snarky comment, I laugh. He's so funny, and he starts laughing too, his adorable dimples showing.

"Jack, Kim. I hope you're working over there..." Mrs. Forester trails off.

"Yes, Mrs. Forester." We say meekly, and actually begin to work.

I read over my paper one more time and then I trade with Jack, looking over his for any errors I might have missed. I get caught up in the story and don't notice the time until the bell rings, signaling the class has ended. Jack and I trade papers again, stuffing them into our respective backpacks before saying goodbye and hurrying off to our next classes, mine being cheerleading his being study hall.

I scurry off to the gym and I see Jack's head turn around the corner, almost turning too soon and hitting the wall. I laugh and continue on my way, thinking that Jack couldn't be that good of an actor... I mean... It's just not possible. He can't tell a lie to save his life, even if it is the response to, "Did you put pudding in my bra?" (It was a "No." shaking with laughter. Couldn't act his way out of that one to save his own butt).

I pull my hair up into a high ponytail, heading into the gym, and push all thoughts of Jack out of my mind. There's no way I can focus on the new routine for competition (remembering at the same time to make my movements sharp and clean, unlike the fluidity of my dance) with Jack on my mind. I've got a rule for myself, once your feet touch the mat, you don't think about anything but the cheer at hand. I become so focused on cheering that I forget about everything else.

Which is probably why I forgot about Jack's performance til I got home. Cartwheels and back hand springs were chasing around my head until I dropped my backpack on my floor. Some how, all thoughts of the new routine disappear from my brain, and I start worrying about the play. I'm not even _in _it for goodness sakes! I'm just going to see it! But I start pacing, and I worry about it when I'm eating dinner, as I'm in the car on the way back up to school, walking into the black box.

I pick a seat in the third row, picking up the playbill, a picture of a dreary farm on the front. I flip through it, looking at all the cast, and there he is, first character, "Buddy Layman, played by Jack Anderson." Any small, lingering doubts of him lying to me jump out the window. I'm sitting there, thinking about what could go wrong, whether or not Jack will remember his lines when Mr. B walks to the front of the seating area. You see, as the play is a one act, and it's taking place in the black box, there's no raised area for the performers. Actually, the seats are put on risers, and we take up about a quarter of the room. The other three quarters is the 'stage'. So, the front row is right up on the action, and actors some times are less than a foot away from the audience. It makes for an interesting experience, to say the least.

Mr. B starts off welcoming everyone to the play, as it is typical for the director to do.

"Hey, everybody, thanks for coming out to see our play! We've spent the last month or so preparing this, and everyone's worked so hard on it. As you know, tomorrow we go to competition with this, and I wanted to give the students a feel of what it's like, performing this for an audience, before it's actually time to present it to the judges." Mr. B pauses, "This play, The Diviners, is a very special play. It's dramatic, it's funny, and I hope you love it just as much as we've loved putting it together."

Mr. B takes one last look around the audience as we applaud, then walks to the second row and sits down. All the house lights dim, and then only the 'stage' is lit, and Jack's there, in filthy over-alls.

The play had begun.

**A/N: So, yeah. The Diviner's is a real play, and it was the play my school competed with for One-Act competition. It's so good, and so sad. I cried when I saw it, and it's just amazing! I could totally see Leo Howard as the main character, Buddy, so I figured that play would be perfect!**

***fun fact!* I looked around for my old biology notes so I could find something for Kim to take notes on. Yeah... I'm lame!**

**Anyways...**

**Thanks again to bballgirl22 for helping me with this fic!**

**Please review, it makes my day!**

**x Em**


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